


Bad Revelations: The Not-So-Nice and Inaccurate Assumptions of Esther Ebenezra

by Boudicca_Heart



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Demon/Human Relationship, Apocalypse, Armageddon, Death, Major Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Saving the World, Sequel, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boudicca_Heart/pseuds/Boudicca_Heart
Summary: The Armies of Good and Evil are amassing. Mountains rise, rivers overflowing, and apparently, Heaven and Hell are determined to get their war: The New and Improved Divine Plan, they call it. They're not going to misplace the Anti-Christ this time, as there will be no mistakes. As for the fussy Angel and fast-living Demon? Well, they may just have more on their hands than they'd like - besides the war, that is.





	Bad Revelations: The Not-So-Nice and Inaccurate Assumptions of Esther Ebenezra

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... I'm using this as an experiment. This piece is kind of a test run. I cannot say whether or not I'm going to finish this story, but if you all like it, then please say so! There's going to be romance, action, intrigue, adventure, sorrow and so on. Overall, I'm hoping to use this as practice for any future stories I write, particularly when it comes to character development and world-building. It's fanfiction - I'm not expecting my writing to be the greatest thing since sliced bread nor the story to be completely thought out, but I do hope that you all enjoy it either way.

Eyes glazed over a computer, smoking a cigarette, Esther’s eyebrows frowned at the words on the screen. Papers surrounded her desk, the four corners of her offices surrounded by plaques. With the curtains shut and the door shut, the room was filled with a murky haze surrounded by lightly worn-out stone.

_I love these kids, but sometimes, I’d just wish they listened more._

With a red pen, she began grading the most recent line of homework from her students. Outside her office, through a tiny glass window, the sound of shouting, protests, and the hustle of city life in the desert sun could be seen. She runs through the dialogue, commenting, and critiquing their work.

_Well, yes, St. Augustine’s “Confessions” did the transition from the concept of Manichee, which had literal tones of interpreting the world, to more figurative interpretations, but how does that apply to his belief about God’s relation with the world? Is God the world or is the world still, according to St. Augustine, just a material plane that is to be avoided for the sake of spiritual salvation? Why did he need a sign to truly convert? And, what’s your thesis on all this?_

Her head started to hurt. She dug through her desk to find some generic pills, swallowing them down with a cup of coffee. As she stopped for a moment, she realized that her workspace was an absolute mess. 

_I should have cleaned._ She heard a knock on the door. “Come in!”

A shy boy, in his early 20’s, with thick glasses and kippot, opened the door slightly. “ערב טוב, Professor! I am a bit confused about the essay you assigned us. Could I have your help?”

“Sì, sì, sì, come sit down and let me help you,” she smiled sweetly at the boy. 

The student sat down nervously and began asking his questions. Somewhere along the lines, the ripe student felt unconsoled with the answers she’d given him.

“What’s wrong, Yaakov?” she asked, with a gentle look in her eyes. 

Yaakov looked nervously at her. “...What are your thoughts, um, about all this? About what the Tanakh says? What do Christians say? Why does the Sunni, the Shia, why do they hate us so much? My parents don’t like your classes. They believe you’re too… cynical. מלא חטא, as they put it. They want me to go to my Rabbi for the answers, but I don’t kno- ” 

“Yaakov,” she interrupted. “My aim in all this is to teach you to think about what these scripts say from an academic point of view. To think critically about the world around you! The points of my classes are to give you, and all my students, a better understanding of, well… what it means to be human. Our political world is chaotic right now. You’ve seen what goes on in the streets more so than I do. I’m not… I’m not a Rabbi, or a nun, or a Sunni or Shia. I don’t have those answers because that’s not what my classes are.” 

“But, what do you believe?” His eyes were filled with a child-like curiosity. 

She sighed heavily. “Alright, since you want my opinion on the subject… the stories in the bible, the Quran, the Tanakh, represent us. God, demons, angels, they’re like mirrors into our souls. They only reflect our desires to... rise above being human. They aren’t actually real.” 

“So… you’re an atheist?”

“Agnostic, mostly. I was raised Catholic.... and Jewish, strangely enough. It was weird.” 

“Why... are you...?” He paused, tilting his head to the side inquisitively. 

"Agnostic?" Her eyes dimmed with a tinge of sadness. “Shame, mostly.” 

The young lad sat silently at the response. 

“Look-,” she said, changing the subject in frustration. “We’ll never have all the answers. We just got to deal with what we got, really. I hope that you’ll do well on your essay. Good luck, Yaakov. I’ll see you on Monday, alright?” 

The boy frowned and nodded his head. “Alright.” He stood up, giving his formal thanks, and rushed out the door, closing the door behind him. 

Time had passed. Around evening, when the sun started to fade across the horizon, Esther grabbed her black scarf, wrapping it around her head while grabbing her backpack filled with her laptop and some unfinished essays. After locking the door, she walked through the faculty building, surrounded by images of the Star of David and mosaics of medieval manuscripts. Once exiting the building, she got onto her motorcycle, roared the engine as she put her helmet on, and she was off. Vivacious and filled with life, small sedans honked their horns, men in turbines yelled on the streets as she passed the local markets hosting live chickens, fresh fish, Kosher bread, and large bags of salt. The dryness of the heat filled the evening air as exhaust fumes mixed with the smell of garbage. Poster signs are written in Hebrew, advertising for excellent wifi, unlimited phone calls, and Rabbi consultations, all of what seemed like a foreign and uninhabitable land passed her by, and she couldn’t help but wonder why she was here. As she heard the news report about the Palestine revolts on some of the public TV station broadcasts, she sighed heavily and picked up her speed, anxious to get home.

She then arrived at her neighborhood, passing by a sign that, when translated, showcased the name “Ruhama” along its metal frame. Passing by a few houses, she arrived at her address, parking her motorcycle inside the iron gates and locking the gate behind her. Ruhama was peculiarly set amidst a bustling city, with cars parked tightly next to each other just as tight as the buildings themselves. Walking up the cobblestone stairs, she saw her neighbor using a bucket to wash linen sheets in their backyard. Her neighbor, small in stature and physically worn by age, smiled back at her sweetly and shouted a Yiddish blessing. Esther waved back, pleased but tired after her long trip home. After unlocking the door, she looked down and noticed some mail, mostly junk, piled in front of her. Picking up the batch of letters and magazines, she walked through the door and threw them all on her living room table, not really caring where they went. 

After taking off her helmet, scarf, shoes and dropping her bag, she began lighting candles to brighten up the room, because, with the lack of decor and shallowness of the walls, the rooms were encompassed by cozy, damp darkness that could only be described as a medieval poorhouse. Surrounded by tight corners and cracks, she could hear the water dripping from the overhead pipes, the humid draft coming in from an open window upstairs, and the humming of the refrigerator. She walked over a dark wood vanity through the foyer and found some incense. Picking up a stick at random, she lit the incense with a spare lighter she had in her back pocket. The smell of Tuscany roses began to fill the corners of the living room. She breathed it in, with faded memories of home, the lush greenery of the Swiss Alps, the ferns and trees in summer, and an endless array of wines and sweets, filling her mind. She then went into her upstairs bedroom, lighting candles along the way, and changed into a more suitable attire; a pair of breezy cotton shorts and a white tank top. 

She then went over to the kitchen, pushing in a CD into the radio player. ELO blasted through the speakers as she began to heat up her leftover dinner from the other day. As the mock-opera beats combined with layered guitars and overdubbed vocals began to resonate, she danced, fluttering in a trance, moving side by side and hummed along with the tune. After dropping the rest of her dishes into the dishwasher and cleaning up the counters and oven, she walked back into the living room and flopped on the couch and gave a huge sigh of relief, with a plate of chicken risotto set on the stand next to her. After taking a few bites, she began looking through the batches of spam letters, utility bills, and magazines related to the latest in punk European fashions. The envelope then caught her eye, peculiar in its formal address with red stamps, with words such as “confidential” and “express delivery” over the filament of the paper. 

“… What is this?” she asked out loud. She noticed the address and observed it carefully.

_Gabriele Carcosa_

_Apostolic Palace_

_00120 Vatican City_

_Is this another one of those conventions again?_ She lit another cigarette compulsively and began ripping at the glued-down seams of the envelope, pulling out its contents. Inside was a letter typed on old, yellow parchment. _How weird,_ she thought. 

> _Dear Dr. Ebenezra,_
> 
> _As a diplomatic representative of the Holy See, under the recommendation of the College of Bishops, who presides under the command of the College of Cardinals, receiving its missions dictated by the Supreme Pontiff, we would like to cordially invite you to our Apostolic libraries to discuss manuscripts recently pondered over by our envoys. We believe your extensive experience in Biblical religious texts will offer much advice to our envoys and help further substantiate our limited understanding of God and its creations. Come to the address labeled below, and in compensation for this resolute request, you will find temporary boardings which include flight, travel, and other necessities. When you arrive, please note at the front window at the Palace of the Holy Office of your purpose and a representative will guide you to our location to further digress on the historical significance of our findings._
> 
> _We hope you can offer your outstanding services to the Holy See during this time of blessings and joy from our Creator. May God bless you, and may you reflect on the Lord’s power and presence in our world throughout your journey._
> 
> _Respectfully,_
> 
> _Carcosa, Gabriele_

_Historical significance? A resolute request? What is this shit?_ She looked through the rest of the attached paperwork, noticing the location of the hotel, the flight time periods she’ll be traveling by, and raised her eyebrows at the sudden date. Impulsively and with a sense of aggravation, she threw the papers on the table, puffed harshly on the cigarette, and thought for a moment. Ashes fell onto the edge of the couch as the music changed in the background. 

_Why would they want me? I haven’t visited home in a while and I don’t think this will be anything too important. I’m curious…_ Again, she pondered. She recalled how the impending conflicts between Gaza and Israel have been chaotic over the past few years. She then began to pant and shiver. 

_No, they’ll be fine. Don’t put yourself back there. Breathe in, and out._

She looked at the letter again, scanning over its contents, controlling her breath from the upskirts of her momentary panic. _Let’s just hope my students don’t die from boredom when I’m gone,_ she thought, chuckling nervously to herself, removing the sweat from her brow. 

She then pulled her laptop from her carrier and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. Opening it up, she opened her email and created a new message. Typing somewhat intensely, she addressed to the dean her reason for sudden leave, that her mother became extremely ill, and that her current condition is severe enough that requires her presence for a least a few weeks. After finishing the final touchings, she paused, wondering why this letter pulled at her so much. She closed her eyes and pressed send.

**\-----**

Sunlight glimmered over the coliseum as tourists crowded the open square. She always hated crowds, and the long, overnight flights made her exhausted and queasy. Swiss guardsmen, in their colorful blue and gold uniforms, guarded the entrances and exits into the city. Ahead, she could see the basilica standing ahead, its large golden dome reflecting the summer heat as the cars next to her passed her by. As she began making her way toward the entrance, she remembered that it was Wednesday and how the Pope would be holding an audience. She only dreamed of a more convenient time to come, but then realized how stupid of a dream it is. No time is ever a good time to come to the Vatican. 

Heading through the colosseum, the ceiling vastly rising above her as people made their way in random directions. A flock of birds circled around inside, and after whirling around in random directions, the flock flew out through the open archways and into the sky above. As she made her way through the sardine-packed crowds, she noticed that the long lines circled around the square as many spectators waiting for the arrival of the ever-holy Pontiff. Sweat trickled down across her cheek, her wild hair ruffled from the wind, and in the blinding light, she saw at least what looked to be her destination just around the corner. Pushing past, she made her way to an office located around the corner of the basilica. She noticed a few people stood in line, mostly those looking to ask for tourism packets and settle ticket disputes. She sighed heavily at this disturbance, looking side-eyed at the group ahead of her, and stood at the end of the small line to wait as patiently as she could. A man, looking to be in his early 40’s, bald and with a dark mustache, argued with the representative, who looked to be one of the clergymen living in the city, about how ridiculous the prices are and how unorganized the setup of the Papel is as his family stood nervously beside him. Writing down the complaint, the young clergyman gave the family a blessing of a prayer card and rosary beads, hoping this will satisfy the man’s irritation. However, begrudgingly the old man frowned, said thank you, and walked off. Esther then arrived at the window. 

“Good afternoon, Senora. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello! I was… sent here to discuss some manuscripts that one of your clergies informed me of. His name was...Carcosa? I have the paperwork with me if you need confirmation.”

His eyes widened for a second, then hid his surprise under a calm exterior. “Ahhh...Yes, Dr. Ebenezra. If you could just wait alongside the office walls, one of our envoys will be here shortly to escort you.”

“ _Merci,_ ” she thanked. As she waited, she felt the nervousness creep over her as she craved another smoke. People passed her by like flies, many with high-end cameras, Gucci bags, and Ray-Ban sunglasses. Her mind echoed something fierce, but with what she didn’t know. 

“Dr. Ebenezra” a firm, but soft voice resonated next to her. She turned, awakening from her haze, and saw a nun in her traditional gown, with pale blue eyes surrounded by crows feet. “If you will follow me, please. The archbishop will gladly accept you now.”

_Archbishop?_ She thought, confused at the remark. “Carcosa?”

“Yes, dear. Gabriele always likes surprises.” she smiled sweetly. Her oblong face looked modest, as the gown and veil suited her features, framing her with the utmost grace. They both began to walk, past the basilica, through the arches towards what looked like gardens, vast with lush greenery and filled with intricate patterns crafted into the cut hedges. Roses, tulips, and marigolds decorated the scenery. Palm trees, larch, beech, and laurels all intertwined and mixed together as smaller groups of tourists basked in the vicinity of the divine. The nun, silent, paced herself, keeping her hands steadily held as she whispered silent prayers for everyone. Esther, walking beside her, kept with the pace, although it ached her feet. She felt hesitant to ask any more questions than she already had, as she felt that interrupting her prayers would be rude. As the long, gravel paths soon took a turn, she saw up ahead a large building with red shingle roofs, although it was more modern liking in comparison to the large columns, gilded mosaics, and statues of the basilica. Appearing fairly new in construction, she pondered and asked the nun if that was the building they were going to.

“Oh, that? It’s the Academy. The Pontifical. It’s where all of our best academics go to aid in secular concerns.”

“Can you explain to me why I’m here?” Esther asked. 

“I can’t answer that question, dearie,” she said in a motherly tone. “He didn’t give me much information. I do say however that it is an honor to be invited to such an institution such as ours. Our work towards the greater good and all that is holy in the world has led us to dive into the world of science, well” she paused for a second. “After much debate and consideration, that is,” she smirked cheekily at Esther with this remark. 

“I see… so the Vatican is thinking more progressively nowadays.” 

“Yes, but if I may say so myself,” she giggled. “I tend to find our work towards our poverty-stricken countries to be our best achievements. Service, hospitality, compassion… they’re all things that make us who we are, as we tend to do that best.” 

Esther then glanced and realized how far they’ve walked. At the entrance to the courtyard, clergymen and priests walked in criss-cross directions, entering into and out of a miraculous gateway, having a casual conversation, holding suitcases and sipping on Venti cups of coffee from the nearby Starbucks. The astute nun led her through the courtyard, passing the small fountain decorated by small children with wings. Statues and motifs surrounded her with idealized versions of beauty, people together in depictions of the Last Supper decorated the top part of the gateway as the roof held a statue of a saint holding fabric and scriptures. Esther stopped for a moment to stare at the artwork. As she observed the depiction of Jesus, Judah, Mary Magdalene, and Peter, her mind reminiscence over the significance of the painting. Her eyes grew distant as flashes of memory flipped through like pages. 

_A brooding priest holding her by her hair, reprimanding her with a wooden ruler._

_Her mother’s voice shrieking from outside her bedroom door._

_Highlighted pages from small black bible being ripped from its spine._

_A marble gravestone overcast by sunshine._

_Screams and a white haze, the sounds of gunshots in a desert-smoked land._

_Then...an apple tree in an orchard, fading in the distance, as her small hand reached out._

The nun then turned around and noticed her pause, and motioned her hand to move her forward. As Esther caught up with her, they then passed through the archway, with shadows casting down on them, as they made their way into the main buildings of the academy. 

The hallways of the academy were decadent, studious, but yet all the more modern and simplistic. The nun, after traveling down corridors of paintings and more statues, led her up a winding staircase made of dark cherry wood and black steel. Esther’s eyes glittered with a combination of fascination and weariness as they stepped up the staircase. The surrounding walls began to turn dark, lit only by the overcast of the floor above. She then realized she was on top of a balcony, overlooking what looked like a library. The library, massive in its collections, was intricately detailed, with hanging paintings along its ivory walls, accented by a dark wooden frame. If she were to look down, she would see the depths of the library as each floor vastly packed with corridors, stairways, and priests at their desks, praying, whispering quietly and reading. The small voices of men and women echoed throughout the chambers, but only in whispers, but the chamber made those voices so loud that it echoed in her ears. The nun took a right, leading her down more corridors, left and right and right again, until she came to a side door at the end of a small nook hallway. On the front of the door was a golden label with the archbishop's name carved into the plate. 

The nun knocked loudly on the door. “Arcivescovo? È qui per vederti ora.” the nun spoke. She then turned the knob and opened it slightly. Esther stared for a moment. “Well, go on.” she nudged.

As Esther entered the room, the walls expanded around her as they were furnished with fine collections of paintings and cherry wood walls. Ahead was a large Victorian mahogany desk surrounded by two chairs with an old metal lamp, a carving for a pen placement, and scattered papers and folders. In a red leather chair sat a man, overcast by shadows. 

“Dr. Ebenezra, I presume?” 

“Yes, your Eminence,” Esther remarked solemnly, hiding her moment of fluster. The man leaned in closer, showing off his black wool cassocks and red biretta. His strong features were covered by the curliness of his gray beard. “Ahh, it’s good to finally meet you, Dr. Ebenezra. Please, take a seat.” 

She walked, scuffling her feet somewhat, as she learned to sit, situating herself. 

“How was your trip, doctor?”

“It went well, your Eminence,” she said, lying for the sake of politeness. 

“Please, call me Gabriele. I am not so highly revered that you should refer to me in such a way. Relax.”

She pushed herself back into the wooden chair, crossing her legs. “So, Gabriele” she affirmed, gathering her composure. “What is this all about?”

He tsk-tsk at her, waving his index finger at her disappointedly. “Ahh, I was hoping to have a casual conversation before we’d get into that, but if you insist on such things then let me start with this... “ he stopped, as his Indigo, almost violet eyes grew somewhat serious. “You know much about the Catholic church, yes? The Vatican? How it came to be one of the biggest centers for divine belief?”

“Well, yes, the Lateran pact helped form the Vatican City as its own country after having conflicts with the governm-”

“Yes, we all know this here, but do you know how significant our studies here are? What do we actually do here?”

Her shoulders tightened. “Well, it’s one of the biggest centers for defining the Catholic faith. In cases of things such as archeological findings and _supposed_ prophecies, you aim in defining what those mean for... Christianity.”

“Yes, that’s correct. Now, what if I were to say we found something that would… at least interest you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go on.” 

He paused. “You’re part Jewish correct? Your father was a Jewish man who lived in Bethlehem until he met your mother on a trip to lower Sicily. He fell in love with her, moved to the Northern parts of Tuscany, and had you. Both have quite a reputation, don’t they?” 

“I… am part Jewish. I’m not of the Jewish faith, but my father was. We’d usually celebrate Sabbath every Saturday and then Church on Sunday… wait, what does that have to do with anything?” 

“What I’m trying to get at, Dr. Ebenezra is that life moves people towards love and fate… and yet you, from your journalistic articles over the course of your career, are the _most stubborn, critical and undeniably sarcastic theologian_ I have ever read about. You look at the sociological infrastructures of faith and then rip it out to its bleak core… I must say, it’s impressive.” 

Her eyes flickered as she was determined not to punch him. She spoke in a cool, distant tone, controlled with a hint of frustration behind it. “Well, it’s because I’m right. Why refute facts? It’s a choice to believe in faith. Faith, in my opinion, is just when people stop questioning their experiences in favor of their own point of view. I choose to question that notion of faith because faith is just a desire from the mind for an answer, one that no one will ever get. Theologians don’t have to be religious…they just study religion and its effects on society, not try and convert people. But, I digress. _Now, what are we getting at, Gabriele?_ ” She leaned back in her chair, placing her hands together on her lap, waiting patiently. 

He then grabbed a folder full of papers and threw them at her lap. As he did so, he rotated his chair around and stood up, walking towards a section of books alongside the office walls. “Look through those papers and tell me what you see.” 

Begrudgingly, as she scanned the documents in front of her, varying from descriptions in the bible, medieval paintings, written letters, photographs, all the way to current day Instagram posts, she didn’t see anything that stood out.

“None of these make sense. They’re all from different periods, countries, cultures, they don’t have anything connecting them.”

He sighed. “As archbishop, I have kept a close eye on much of our world’s political climate, including things related to current news from places such as small English villages to large cities such as New York, Dubai, and Tokyo. I know of the wars Israel is facing. I know of the descent our environment has been suffering through, how the third world starves for just a drink of water and a bite to eat, and how diseases such as cancer and HIV have caused millions upon millions of deaths. I see these things, and yet I find one commonality between all of it. Or rather, two. You should look again, doctor, and tell me what you see.” 

Furrowing her eyebrows and squinting her eyes, she scanned through the documents again. She then noticed something peculiar. 

“There are these people… two of them, and they appear everywhere.” She mumbled. “Is this what you want me to see?”

“Yes, and they appear to have never aged a day.”

She stared at him. “What are they, vampires? To me, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe the family line of those people have good genes? It’s way too... unrealistic to be considered possible.”

“Right, but as a member of the Church, I tend not to think of such things as coincidence. Since they seem to have appeared since the beginning, I would like to propose to you something miraculous… and rather strange, if you think about it.” He paused. “They’re angels… or demons, or both!”

She stared at him, now with a face of disbelief. “What?” 

“Hear me out. You know that angels are deliverers of unfiltered messages, while demons can warp messages for their own purposes. Both, however, establish a communication channel between the realm of immanent and our world. In the bible, as you know, angels and demons have a particular way of interacting with humans. So, my question to you is… why are they here?” 

“Um,” she wrinkled her face in skepticism. “I don’t believe any of this. I truly believe it’s just coincidence. There is no evidence, in the history of mankind, to prove that these beings exist. It’s all mythology, something humanity created to entertain themselves. Nothing concrete about it whatsoever, nothing founded in reality...” She looked at the most modern photo, where a young girl was talking a selfie in London, as the two lurked in the background. _They’re kind of good looking though,_ she thought to herself.

“Then I want you to prove that it’s just a coincidence for me.” He smiled, turning to face her. "Just so you know, I had a backup of engineers, geologists, and examiners who have looked into this matter. According to them, there is no scientific explanation. I cannot trust my fellow colleagues, as they are quite susceptible to belief. I am willing to give you your own personal funds, as well as passports, hotel reservations, and whatever else you need to investigate. We’ll provide you the resources you need to find them.”

“...But wouldn’t priests be better at finding these... angels and demons, with, you know… exorcists and such?”

He laughed boisterously. “We aren’t as powerful as Hollywood depicts us as. But technology helps us a lot these days. Besides, if they were angels or demons, they’d notice us much more than someone like you.”

She frowned at the last comment but decided to ignore it. “So… you’re asking me to stalk these two guys to find out if they’re angels or demons or...whatever they are?”

“Yes!” He said with too much enthusiasm in his voice.

“Okay, hold on...Why are you, Archbishop, so interested in finding proof when you should already have your answer?” 

“Because I want your answer,” Gabriele said bluntly with a smirk on his face. “Think of it as a scientific experiment on my part.” 

The thought of traveling excited her a bit, but the idea of stalking two men? It kind of creeped her out. 

“What would I get out of this if I did this for you? And why me?” 

Gabriele then began to walk around his desk, pacing himself. “Our institution represents the pinnacle of the Catholic faith, as you have previously stated. People trust in our judgment. I see your perspective as valuable. In the amounts of letters, religious occurrences, and proclaimed holy saints in the world, we have a huge list of situations to delegate through, as yours is a smaller one out of many. I’m not asking much of you, Dr. Ebenezra. I’m only asking that a little bit of investigating from you, as long as it takes, to help determine who and what they are. We gain information, and you… gain whatever you please from what we can offer once the job is complete. You can become a member of our delegation board here at the Pontifical. We can give you a promotion to teach at Harvard if you like. Anything you think we can offer you, you will most certainly get.” 

She pondered for a moment. “May I ask, what would happen if, by some unimaginable circumstance, that… they are angels or demons? What would you want me to do then?” 

“All you need to do is tell me what you think. The rest is none of your concern.” 

She stared at him as he circled back to his desk. _I should get the answer easy enough,_ she thought. _If it takes me more than a month to determine they’re human, then I should send myself to a mental institution at that point._

“...I want the loans and taxes paid off at my parents’ orchard farm for good. I want the property title to stay within the family.” 

“.... Although we may not be able to pay off the taxes _for good_ doctor, I can at least assure you that those loans will be paid in full at the end of the job and that the taxes on the property will also be paid as long as you live.”

“ _My family,_ which includes who I put in my will, Gabriele. I’m not stupid.” 

He paused for a moment as he sat in his chair once more. He then swiveled his chair to face her and put out his hand. 

“Deal” he smirked. “Let the fun begin.”


End file.
